And Now You're Dead
by x Ruby Dust x
Summary: Peyton is heartbroken when her fiance cheats on her with one of her best friends. One night, after the audience has left, someone gets their hands on a gun and people start showing themselves for who they really are. OrtonOC. WARNING: sex.language.violenc
1. Chapter 1: Philidelphia

Hey all! Ruby here again! well... my other wwe fanfic went so well that i decided to start writing another one. new love interests, and i put more of my falvor into it. suspense. i'm a junkie for it, and i think i do pretty with it. so here it is. hope you enjoy!

and please review! (i'm also a junkie for reviews!)

Ruby.

**And Now You're Dead...**

Chapter One

_Can you imagine what it's like to feel your very last moments of life? To breath your last breath? Hear those last words or sounds? What would you say? What would you do? What could you do?_

Peyton Alden picked up her speed tremendously walking down the streets of south Philadelphia. She was hardly new to the area, growing up just a few streets away from where she was walking now, but Peyton was trying her absolute best to avoid any family or friends she might encounter while out. It had been seven years since she had last seen her mother and father, seven years of unbridled freedom, and she would rather keep it that way.

Seven years in the WWE, and her family was ashamed.

The night her father had disowned her for even thinking about chasing such a dream - instead of attending the college that he picked out so she could become a well renowned lawyer - Peyton had changed her name, and her life. She tossed aside her polos for band t-shirts, threw out her skirts for ripped jeans, gave away her Mary-Janes for a pair of electric pink Converse, and chopped off her wavy gold locks for the feathery strands of black that was now on her head.

All just when she was seventeen. She had then proceeded to chase the dream of becoming a WWE diva, which was made possible one night after meeting a certain someone. A McMahon. She had met Stephanie McMahon in New York, where the billion dollar princess was doing some shopping before hitting the road once again. The rest was fate. Or so Peyton thinks.

But that was only the unseen reason why she was running. If the situation was examined more closely, it would be obvious to just about anyone that Peyton was running from a very specific someone.

She knew he was following her. He always had. AS her heart rate rose with every intense, straining move, Peyton looked behind her. Mechanically - every five steps - Peyton would wrench her neck around and scan her surroundings to check that that someone wasn't advancing on her. That is, until he cut her off and she unknowingly ran straight into his chest.

Her fists pushed against his stomach, sending him backwards into the crowd of innocent bystanders. "STOP FOLLOWING ME!"

Randy Orton just stared at her for a moment, a little hurt that she had yelled so loud and kind of embarrassed because he knew she was about to make a scene. "If you'd just stop I wouldn't have to. Would you just please talk to me? Please? Give me a chance."

She furiously shook her head, "I'm not really in a talking sort of mood. You know, after I walked in on you in _our_ hotel room... cheating on _me_ and whatnot." She was trying her damnedest not to cry. Not over him.

Randy dropped his head in the sort of shame that you can only bestow upon yourself. His hands reached for the back of his neck, kneading the knots from his muscles. "Peyton... what can I do to get you back?"

Peyton let out a sarcastic, and extremely annoyed, sigh, shrugging her shoulders at him and continuing her fast pace walking. "Wrong time, wrong question."

He continued his chase, this time with ease at the close range. His hands groped her dainty shoulders, forcing her to stop and face him. "What?"

"You should have asked yourself _'What should I not do, so I can keep Peyton.' _BEFORE you fucked Mickie!" She worked at wiggling from his grasp, knocking his hands away from her. She no longer knew where those hands had been, and she certainly did not want them touching her. While slapping him away, the silver band around her ring finger pushed sharply into her skin, reminding Peyton of it's presence. "Oh...," she started with yanking it off, "and this is over. Completely. The wedding is off," and she finished with throwing it at him.

Then she disappeared into the crowd.

- - - - - - -

Mickie took that embarrassing walk down the hallway of the hotel. Her shirt was buttoned wrong, her skirt was bunched and wrinkled, and her hair was out of place. Mickie's eyes were swollen and sunken with dark circles that only accentuated her particularly nasty hangover. Just how drunk had she gotten? She remembered being out dancing the night before with the girls. Her best friends. Trish, Torrie, Candice, and Peyton. But nothing after that.

Everything was fuzzy, but Mickie could faintly make out the outline of Torrie Wilson standing in the doorway to her room, her arms crossed and her foot tapping. "What did you do, MJ?" she barked, not noticing just how crappy Mickie was looking. Or feeling. Upon further examination, Mickie could tell that Candice and Trish were also in the room.

Mickie moaned, flopping herself on the bed and covering her face with a pillow. A headache was coming on and she did not need a lecture right now. "Guys..."

"Peyton slept in my room last night," Trish commentated, following Torrie's stance, "she didn't want to wake Randy up since got back so late. I woke up this morning, open the door, and find her running down the hallway. Randy chasing after her. And now you come wobbling down the hallway looking like shit." Her tone was just as disgusted as she meant it to sound. "Just what happened in room 614, Mick?"

- - - - -

Torrie, Trish, and Candice left Mickie to sleep off whatever she had drank the night before. None of them could remember what the others had been drinking, but Mickie's must have been really strong for her not to remember just what had happened. They assumed the worst, though, and went down to the lobby to get some breakfast and wait for Peyton to come back. All her stuff was here. She had to come back sometime. Or get new stuff.


	2. Chapter 2: Boston prt 1

**i got really into this story after i posted it yesterday, so i wrote another chapter today during my first period geometry test. really, i should have been paying attention b/c we have a really big test on circles tomorrow. damn circles. anyhoo... here's another chapter. and read carefully. in these next few chapters are going to be hints about "who done it" later in the story.**

**enjoy!**

**Ruby**

Chapter Two

Boston

Peyton heard a gasp on the other end of the phone, followed by a long, awkward pause. She waited for Candice to speak next, but was growing exponentially uncomfortable with every passing second. "Candice?"

"Sorry, sweetie," her voice was rid of all pity and surprise and turned nurturing, "I'm just so... I don't know... I just can't believe this is all happening. I mean, you and Randy? Now Mickie and Randy? Who could have seen any of it coming?"

"Definitely not me!" I squealed, trying to keep my composure, "I think there was alcohol involved. A lot of it. You said MJ looked like crap, right? Well Randy didn't look like a bed of roses either... and he was kind of rough with me."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" The shock was back. "Uuuuuh, I could just..."

"No! Randy would never. I just think he was frustrated and didn't realize he was squeezing my shoulders as tight as he was."

"Pey-pey! Don't stand up for the scum! You're not thinking of taking him back, are you? Because, believe it or not, he DID cheat on you with your best friend. How more betrayed could you get?"

"Thanks for reminding me..." Peyton sighed, lying on the bed and hugging a pillow. "Absolutely not. Why would I want to be with him after that? That would be emotional suicide."

There was another pause on Candice's end. She was contemplating the question they both knew was inevitable. "Did you talk to her? Mickie?"

Peyton shook her head ferociously, unaware that Candice couldn't see her. Mentally slapping her forehead in stupidity, she continued, "No. And I REALLY don't want to."

"You're going to have to eventually, you know. I know you want to, but you can't place all the blame on Randy. It's okay if you're mad at her. But you can't place all the blame on her either. It takes two, right."

"Yeah... I guess."

"She told us she doesn't remember anything."

"I'm sure she doesn't." It came out more sarcastic than Peyton would have preferred, but it made her feel a little better.

- - - - - -

Randy looked around the locker room of the local YMCA. Seeing no one, he flung his tired, aching body against the bench, letting himself go limp. His mind ran rampant with questions and things he had been thinking about in the past couple days.

_Two days left until this week's show... Will she show up?... Will she even be able to look at me?... She has to go. She has a match... She'll be forced to talk to me. We have a storyline together. There's no way she could avoid it... I'm going to tell her everything. I was drunk. I was stupid. I'm sorry. So sorry..._

But in the back of his mind he wondered if she would even let him speak to her. She had made it perfectly clear that there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say.

As soon as he decided to talk to her, regardless, Randy started to mentally prepare himself for the reality that was about to wash over his head like a cold shower. She was_ never_ going to forgive him. He was _never_ going to get her back.

And never is a really long time...

- - - - - -

Mickie picked up her suitcase from the rotating belt, her legs sagging with the weight and the added stress of jet-lag. But was it really jet-lag? Or was her conscious physically telling her something was wrong?

Mickie shook her head at herself. She was guilty, and she knew it. But she just didn't _feel_ it. She thought it was just because she couldn't remember anything and that seeing Peyton would bring the emotion to the surface, but, at the same time, she dreaded seeing running into the aforementioned. She was so dreadful, she hadn't even dared to pick up the phone and apologize. Which, in all sense, would have made her best friend - or maybe former best friend - even more upset. But was that because of guilt or fear for her own well being?

A cab was waiting outside the airport, waiting to take her to the hotel that most of the superstars were staying at. She wasn't ready for that. Not until she could figure herself out. So, instead, she flipped open her cellphone and called Trish. Maybe some peer review could help her figure this out.

- - - - - -

Trish agreed to meet Mickie at a coffee shop around the corner from the hotel, but she also said she would only sit for five minutes to hear Mickie's side of the story. Trish knew it wasn't fair, but everyone had taken side with Peyton because she had been the one wronged. Mickie and Randy played the bad guys. And no one really wants to hang out with a bad guy. Not even if it's your best friend, unfortunately.

Mickie walked in, tears already staining her face and saturating the high collar of her shirt. She walked over to the small table with a sort of slump to her bag, looking like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She got right down to the point, "Trish, I don't remember anything!"

Trish squinted her eyes at Mickie, really looking past her and watching the door. "Nothing?"

"Not a single thing. I remember we left the hotel at seven. We went to the _Bamboo Temple_ for Chinese. Then we went to that cigar lounge with that weird name that Randy wanted to go to...

_Actavica_, or something... Then Randy went back to the hotel and we went out to some nightclub. That's all kind of fuzzy, but it's there. I remember Peyton ordering us drinks, us dancing, you and Torrie flirting with some guys who asked for our autographs...then nothing. The next thing I know is that I'm waking up to Peyton screaming and Randy running around the room. Then I went back to my room...and here we are..."

Trish's sense of nervousness passed over her as she blinked at Mickie. "Really?"

"Why would I want to do that to Peyton?"

Trish really had to think about that answer, but came up with something nonetheless. _Mickie wanted Randy._


	3. Chapter 3: Boston prt 2

**hey guys! i wanted to release the next two chapters together, since this one is kinda short. hope you like. REVIEW! please. **

**Ruby.**

**p.s. chapter four has something of a sex scene in it, but not really. if that stuff makes you uncomfortable, just skip the last part of chapter four. **

**ta!**

Chapter Three

Boston: Part Two

John Cena had noticed the way Peyton had walked into _Little Mama's _restaurant that morning. Sophisticated, elegant, and agitated. She wore designer sunglasses to cover the gorgeous green eyes that everyone always complimented her on. A sun dress with a pencil skirt swished around her knees, the orange color accenting the "café au lait" hair. She looked good. Especially after what happened.

John knew about her break up with Randy, about the canceled wedding and fight. Hell, Randy was a good buddy of his. Maybe one of his best. Yes, Randy had told him that he would no longer require John's services as best man, but he seemed too preoccupied to go into details. And the frown he was sporting made John think twice about asking.

She walked straight for him with long, no-nonsense strides. Almost like a hellcat just about to pounce on it's prey. John made eye contact with her for the smallest second, watching her expertly navigate the crammed design of the room, then quickly checked his watch. Ten to seven. Damn. He had wanted to get breakfast early, go to the gym by seven, and then go check out the arena by eight. Looking up again, and seeing Peyton closer, John realized that his morning plans had changed.

Peyton placed her hand on the chair opposite of his, her eyes growing wide and glistening with a sort of innocense. "Mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full." Her voice made his ears tingle.

"It's all yours." He pulled a newspaper from his lap and began scanning the first page, a novice attempt to make it seem like he wasn't curious. She saw right through him. He could just tell.

A plumb waitress scurried over, "Can I get you something, hun?" She seemed to be fighting an accent.

Peyton nodded anxiously. She had been dying for a good cup of coffee for months and it seemed like this was the place to get one. "And can I have the blueberry waffles with a side of strawberries?"

John put his paper down, "You know what, Enid? Make that two. Put it on my tab."

Peyton started to protest, but he held a hand up to her. "I've been coming here for years. Ever since I was a kid. I get a discount."

- - - - - -

Around lunch, Trish had assembled Torrie and Candice to discuss what she had talked about with Mickie. "I just think something is up. I mean, I'm not really sure I buy into the whole _'Trish, I don't remember!'_ thing."

Torrie took a sip of the ice tea in front of her. "I never saw her drink that night. I saw her order something, but I could swear she didn't even finish that. Did either of you?" They both shook their heads.

Trish then proceeded to explain exactly what had happened on that meeting with Mickie. "I think she just has a thing for Randy... I know it's horrible to say, but... what else can you think of?"


	4. Chapter 4: Boston prt 3

Chapter Four

Boston: Part Three

Peyton leaned against the wall backstage, her sights set on the curtain leading down to the ring. For tonight she would have to fake a smile, grit her teeth, and bare it. The audience had always seen Peyton at Randy's side, no matter what despicable thing he was told to do. That's the only reason so would go down to the ring; the audience loved her. And hated him. It was an odd pairing, to say the least. The people liked how she "attempted" to hold him back, how she seemed to hate him after everything he did. But she would still be onscreen with him the next week, happy and giggley. Just like a girl in love.

Now, standing by herself, Peyton wrapped her arms around herself to add some comfort to the fact that her smiles with him would no longer be genuine. As much as she didn't want to, Peyton still loved him. Part of her always would. That same part would miss him fiercely after the two parted way on Monday nights. Their careers couldn't be entangled forever, could they?

They balanced each other out. On air, Randy was an arrogant, cocky, ego-driven son-of-a-bitch and she was the one to try to hold him back. She was the one who made him seem even remotely human. In real life, she was the crazy one - always wanting more adventure and excitement - and he would ground her. While Peyton would go to bars and clubs, Randy would go to places like cigar lounges and other things. It made him seem sophisticated, in a sense, which made her seem just as sophisticated. Overall, he made her elegant. He was always there to catch her if she stumbled, which made her seem graceful.

She was beginning to wonder if she could find that with anyone else.

Peyton shivered, even though the heat from the lights in the arena was blazing through the curtain. This was the absolute worst feeling she had ever experienced. Her heart was broken - more like shattered - and she had no idea what was in store for her now.

She could feel Randy's white-hot stare burning a hole through her heart, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Baby?" His voice cooed.

Tears welled in her eyes as Peyton tried to force all emotion out the proverbial window. She held them back. "Don't call me that." The name she had called him was drowned out by the cheering of the fans.

"Peyton. . . can't we at least talk?"

Randy's music began to play and Peyton started to push past him to walk out onto the stage. "I have nothing to say to you."

Randy stepped in front of her, "Then you don't have to talk. Just listen."

"Now isn't the perfect time, Randy." She had intentionally said his name with malice. Randy's music started on it's second cycle as the crowd grew quiet. The lack of appearance was enough to confound the mixture of cheers and boos.

"Dinner, then. After the show? At the hotel restaurant. You can show up or you can't, but at least I'd know that I made an honest attempt to give you closure. It would at least make _me_ feel better."

The tears Peyton was fighting to push back fell back with ease. _How dare he!_ she reprimanded in her head, _fuck it if it makes HIM feel better!_ Randy disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Peyton standing in a huff. A hand reached out to her and his ego-driven persona was accompanied by a womanizing one when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down the ramp.

By the end of the match, Peyton had purple bruises around the base of her right hand and her shoulder socket felt loose.

- - - - - -

Randy could feel himself letting go. He wasn't sleeping, he hadn't been eating, and all he could do was exercise. In the morning he would go jogging, in the afternoon he would hit the gym, and in the evening he would do a modest workout at home. It seemed to him that the more he sweat, the more in control he felt. But he wasn't, and he knew it.

It was a little after one in the morning and Peyton had yet to show up. He was beginning to think that she wouldn't come at all, not even to say she had, and that was making him mad. Randy picked his fork up and started stabbing at the steak on his plate, making small holes all around the middle. He continued taking his rage out on the dead - and cooked to perfection - cow in front of him until Peyton slumped in the seat across from him.

"I thought you weren't going to show." He sighed, replacing his fork next to his spoon.

She rolled her eyes at him, while pulling the sleeves of her shirt down around her fingers to hide the black and blue marks. "I almost wasn't going to."

"Do you want something to eat?"

She scowled at him, fear and hatred raging through her veins. Then her eyes reverted back to the way she had entered, scanning the big red doors for something. "No. I have _other_ plans." No she didn't.

"You do?"

"Yes." Another lie.

"I'm dead to you, aren't I?" The question was filled with self pity, and Peyton hated that he was searching for it. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"Not quite yet. You're talking to me, aren't you?"

Randy grabbed his wine glass with a firm grip. She was going to make a scene again, make him look like the bad guy again, and he refused to look like the fool. "Dammit, Peyton. Those snippy little comments aren't helping," he whispered in a hollow voice, "If you'd just shut up and listen then I could explain myself."

Peyton, infuriated, stood from her chair and ran a shaking hand through her hair. He had never talked to her like before. Never. Not even when they fought. Not even that week he had to "pretend" to hate her for the show. She mustered her courage and said, in a really calm voice, "I don't want anything from you, Randy. That's your problem. You can't just seem to leave me the hell alone."

"I'm trying to save our relationship here!" Everyone was staring at him and his yelling, making him look like the fool once again. "Jesus!"

"Are my 'snippy little comments' making you feel guilty? Aw, poor baby." Now she was just antagonizing him to see how far she could push his buttons. As much as she hated to admit it, Peyton was a bitch sometimes. Especially when she has been wronged in some way. "Deal with it! Imagine having to endure the heartbreak that I've had to try to get through! She wasn't your best friend, Randy. She was mine. M-I-N-E. Mine. Now I'm not only down one lying, cheating, scum fiancé, I'm down a best friend. And I hate you for that. But mostly I hate you because part of me can't seem to let you go and you're not helping that!"

"So, what now?!" If everyone wasn't staring before, they sure would be now.

"... and _now_ you're dead." Peyton slammed her chair back into the table and walked towards the door, finally spotting who she had been looking for. John Cena. Looking back over her shoulder, she left him with some lasting words, "What don't you go fuck yourself, Randy. Better yet, get Mickie to do it for you."

Randy slammed his fist on the table, shattering the plate beneath it. He saw John leave with her just before he looked towards the droplets of blood trickling down his knuckles.

- - - - - - - - -

"You couldn't have come at a better time," Peyton sighed, letting John open the passenger side door for her then close it. When he reappeared behind the steering wheel, she continued, "things were getting pretty out of hand."

"I could hear." John wanted to smile, but the pain on Peyton's face made him thing otherwise. She was even shaking a little bit. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Thanks for picking me up. I knew things would get crazy and I didn't want to drive home all hysterical."

"It's no big deal."

"But it is. I would have asked one of my friends, but I didn't want to listen to their advice anymore. I love them to death, but..."

"No, I get it. You don't want to focus on the whole 'break up' thing. It's cool. I don't need any explanations." John took a single second to glance off of the road and look at her. She was smiling, which made him smile.

"Exactly."

"Okay, then... so how about this weather? Huh?" He had managed to make her laugh. To him, it was a sign that she was going to be alright on her own. At least for a while.

- - - - - - -

**WARNING: somewhat a sex scene. if that offends, skip this part!**

Mickie sank into the hot bath water, her head physically hurting. Trish and Torrie had been pleasant, but were giving her the dirtiest looked. Candice had just completely snubbed her. And Peyton... she didn't even want to think about what Peyton might do.

She had been thinking about her blackout, and remembered something she had read. Some psychiatrists say that people tend to block out things they don't want to remember. Something like this was just the thing that Mickie wouldn't want to remember.

The truth was, Mickie could remember.

Some of it, anyways. She could remember just how she noticed Randy looking at her at _Actavica_. It was a side long glance, smiling as he tilted a glass towards her. Peyton had been sitting on Mickie's left. Could he have been toasting to her? No, it was definitely towards Mickie, that she was sure of.

She could also remember the way Randy's bare skin felt against hers. Raw, awkward, and so passion filled. She could remember the feel of his muscles contracting as she ran her hands over his chest, the pressure his member was putting on the inner workings of her thigh. She could remember just how wet his kisses had been, even when he ran his tongue over her nipple. Most of all, she could remember the sheer pleasure that erupted when he made the plunge.

There was a rapid knock on the door, followed by someone's entry. Mickie's back pricked as she jumped form the tub and wrapped a towel around herself. Randy was standing in the threshold to the bathroom, his face burning red from frustration and shirtless.

He stepped towards Mickie, his hands reaching out for her hips as he pulled them towards him. At first she was apprehensive, but then she loosened herself and let the towel drop to the floor. She pressed her body against his chest, pushing against his labored breathing.

He backed her up against the wall, his lips finding their way to hers. She bit his lower lips as she reached for his hand, now settled on her thigh. She wanted him to touch her, to feel his hands all over her body. Her fingers grasped his wrist and guided his hands up towards her breasts. Mickie was the one in control now.

Randy felt Mickie's teeth tugging on his ear, but everything else felt numb. He just wanted to feel whole again, but he knew that wasn't anywhere in the near future. Not with out Peyton, the love of his life. He just wanted to get rid of the numbness.

When he finally felt Mickie guiding his hand, he pulled it away from her and rested his fingers somewhere on her shoulder. She tried again, and he declined her again. She tried for a third time, "Mickie..." Her name rolled past his lips with the most uncomfortable feeling.

She moaned, "I _looooove_ the way you say my name."

He stepped back from her completely, shaking his head and squeezing his temples with his hands. What had he been thinking of even going over there anyway? _I wanted it to be Peyton, _He thought to himself, almost bringing himself to tears, _what the hell have I done? _


	5. Chapter 5: Madison Square Garden

**short chapter, but i'm planning on writing the next one really soon, if not today. so it evens out. uhhh... for those of you turned off by a Orton/OC/Cena love triangle, don't worry. that's NOT going to happen. for those of you hoping for it, sorry. **

**anyway, next chapter someone dies!**

**Review!**

**Ruby**

Chapter Five

Madison Square Garden, New York

Candice sprayed some of her favorite perfume in front of her, then walked through the fragrant cloud. She was going out with Todd Halphaway tonight, after the pay-per-view, and she wanted everything to be just perfect. Looking at herself, standing perfectly in the outfit she had preselected, Candice noticed Torrie walk into the woman's locker room.

"Going out with that security guy again?" She smiled, slipping on her wrestling attire. Tonight, there was a huge all Diva match, where the winner became number one contender the women's title at next month's event. The title holder, Mickie James.

"He's not _just a security guard_, Tor. He's the head of security for the entire WWE, and he single. And interested." She decided that she liked what she saw, so started taking off her 'date outfit' and started putting on her wrestling gear. "And it's our second date."

"So... what? You don't put out till the third." Candice threw a towel at her while Torrie snickered. "Kidding! Anyway, so what about tonight. What would your bet be that Peyton wins?"

"What makes you think that Peyton's going to win, hmm? Why not me? Or yourself, for that matter?" Candice always was the one who was a bit too competitive. One time, Torrie had beaten her in a match and Candice wouldn't talk to her for two weeks.

Torrie put her hands innocently in the air. "I'm not saying that you couldn't win... you have a really good chance...I'm just saying that Peyton's got a fire lit under her ass, is all."

Candice considered it, "Yeah. If she wins, she gets to legitimately beat the shit out of Mickie."

"And... if she wins the title, she could legitimately ask for a career break from Randy." Torrie concluded, finishing by tightening her elbow pads. "It must be so hard for her to go out there with him every Monday," she sympathized.

- - - - - - - -

Peyton walked into the arena, her oversized hoodie and ripped jeans folding against her body against the harsh wind. After telling Randy off the other night, she felt liberated to a certain extant. It was like yelling at him was letting his choke hold on her heart loosen. Over all, it made her smile. More than she ever thought she would after the last week and a half, anyway.

Now she had one more chance to make something of herself tonight. If she won tonight's match, she would be rid of Randy forever. Sure, she would eventually bump into him backstage, maybe she would even smile and wave one day, but she wouldn't be forced into looking like she was happy while walking alongside him. And that's what meant the most to her.

Hiking the strap of her duffel over her shoulder, Peyton took the plunge and entered the arena. John was standing there, a coffee in his hand and a smile on his lips. "Some weather we're having, huh?"

- - - - - - - -

Peyton listened to her music play for a moment, taking in the power of the lyrics and letting the punk-rock tune fill her persona. Torrie was already down at the ring, Candice was standing to her left and waiting for her entrance. Behind her was Trish. They both nodded to her and watched as she disappeared out onto the stage.

She listened to the crowd's roar of approval, but Peyton kept her sights set on the commentary table. Mickie sat there, headphones over her ears. Her goal was set, and all she had to do was eliminate five other Divas. Sounds easy, right? Okay, maybe not...

Still, Peyton was on the war path and hell bent on kicking Mickie's ass. When she was firmly in the ring, Peyton walked over to the south side ropes, staring Mickie down with a devilish smirk on her face. Mickie squinted her eyes in a fake confusion, like she was wondering what it was all about. But she knew. "Wow... look at that? She looks just a little mad..." King's voice echoed through Mickie's headphones.

"I thought you two were on good terms?" JR's followed.

Snapping out of her trance-like state of mind, Mickie remarked, "I guess not."


	6. Chapter 6: New York Murder One

**now it's you're turn. i ask the infamous question.**

**who did it?**

**let me know who you think. there's going to be two other murders until i reveal who really did it. anyone have any early guesses?**

**Review please.**

**Ruby**

Chapter Six

New York: Murder One

Peyton laid crumpled outside of the ring, her body physically and emotionally defeated. She couldn't move and the back of her head was throbbing and pulsating in sync. She held her head tightly, her face pressing into the wet padding. Blood spattered from somewhere behind her.

_WHAT THE FUCK!_

Trish inched over to her best friend, catering to her split head while the referee called for the medics. Hearing Trish, and all the other divas walk around the ring, their steps quick and panicked, Peyton remembered everything.

She was standing on the top rope, Melina laying flat on her back. She was about to execute her finishing move, a diving hurricanrana, when she saw Mickie leave the commentary table. Just as Peyton's feet left the ring entirely, Mickie made contact with her knees and pushed her back until Peyton's head his the barrier on the outside. No one say the cheap shot coming, and everyone stared dumbfounded as the medics rushed to her neck in a brace and her body on a stretcher.

Peyton wouldn't have it. Now she was fuming at Mickie - not knowing what the hell she could have been thinking in doing something unscripted and so absurdly dangerous - but Peyton would have to wait to get back at her. At least until she could feel her back again.

Pulling the neck brace off and sitting up, everyone trying to push her back down and yelling "You could have a broken neck! Lay down!", Peyton struggled to stand. Torrie and Trish saw her and, knowing just how stubborn she was, rushed to her side to help her. Candice and all the other divas right behind them.

With their help, and the support of their bodies, Peyton walked backstage. She only did it to preserve her pride while out in front of the audience. She felt like a punk, letting Mickie one up her like that. Now, with the audience safely out of view, Peyton let herself collapse and people attend to her.

Her eyes were covered in her own blood. Before Peyton blacked out, she saw John standing over her, being pushed aside by Randy. John shoved him right back.

Then everything faded to black.

- - - - - - -

Luckily, nothing was broken. The bust in her head wasn't even that bad, she wouldn't need stitches. Even luckier, there wasn't any signs of a concussion. The trainers and medics told her that she should take a week off, but other than that she was fine. Physically.

Emotionally, she was rabid and wild. Her eyes were opened and she realized why Mickie had done it. She didn't want Peyton to wrestle her, because that would give Mickie the sense that she had actually done something wrong. Her unjustified move was out of self preservation. But it was a mistake. Mickie could have crippled her. Or worse. And now, Mickie was going to have to pay for it. For everything.

The show ended that night a little less dramatically than what was happening in Peyton's world. The crowd had left, and a voice echoed through the arena. "Those involved in the Diva dispute tonight, report to my office. NOW!" Vince didn't sound very happy. But Peyton couldn't blame him.

She was the last to enter the Chairman's locker room, her head bandaged and still throbbing. Mickie sat alone in front of his desk, almost like one of those old cop movies where the perp was flooded in a spotlight. Vince loomed over her, his hands folded and a scowl so domineering that it made Peyton cringe. Randy and John were standing on both side of the door, their arms and faces bruises and swollen. Apparently their shoving match had turned into an all-out brawl after she had passed out. Then the divas shared the couch, some sitting on arm rests and others in the cushions.

Vince nodded to the seat next to Mickie, but Peyton violently shook her head in protest. Instead, she just stood in the middle of the room.

Accepting her decision, Vince balled his hands into fists and leaned forward on his desk, falling towards Mickie. "What the hell did you think you were doing?!" Mickie opened her mouth to object, but Vince wouldn't let her. "I gave you permission to go down to ringside, but I also remember telling you not to touch anything! Peyton counts as something! You deliberately disobeyed me, and that's insubordination, Mickie. For that alone, I would have to dock your pay and give you two weeks suspension. But then there's the fact that you could have killed her!" A vein in Vince's neck was protruding out in massive proportions at this point.

Mickie sat in silence, her eyes to her lap. Peyton would have thought Mickie would have cried because of the brutal tone she was receiving, but her eyes were as dry as a desert.

Then Vince walked over to the door where John and Randy were brooding. "And you two. What do you have to fight over, hmm? Not only did you stir up quite a lot of chaos backstage, but you continued your little romp out into the parking lot. What was that about?" He pivoted and got in Randy's face, "And why would you feel it necessary to put your fist through the window of a car?!"

Peyton looked at Randy and saw the blood flowing freely from behind scabs on his knuckles. She concluded that the scabs were form a preexisting injury, which meant that he had probably been just as mad as she was that night at the restaurant. Tuning back in to Vince's rant, she heard him finish, "Just how am I supposed to punish two of my top superstars for completely obliterating public property?" before the lights failed and they were all brought into complete darkness.

The purr of the back up generators split the sudden silence and illuminated them in a greenish glow. "What the hell happened now!?" Vince barked.

Candice heard Todd's familiar voice yelling for them on the other side of the door. Vince tried to open the door, but the wooden mass was locked tight. "Todd!"

His voice was small, but they could still hear most of his comments, "...city blackout... doors and security system connected to power...doors lock when power out...I'll get an axe..."

- - - - - -

Randy was the first one to step out of Vince's locker room through a huge hole in the door. John was going to be next, but Vince shoved past him and exited. Then John, then the rest. Everything in the halls were covered in the eerie green light, casting long and lurking shadows everywhere. Candice approached Todd and hugged him. Peyton could see the absolute admiration in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. "What happened again?" Candice asked, separating herself from him.

"The entire city is blacked out. I think some of the power lines from the plant got cut because of the horrible wind. Anyway, the security system that ties into the door locks automatically locks everything down when the power goes down. We're stuck inside until the power can come back on." He replied, his hand firmly on his walkie-talkie and the other playing with the sunglasses hanging around his neck.

"Where is everyone?" Someone asked.

"Gone. We're the only one's left in the building."

John stepped up to him, "And what were you doing here if everyone left?"

"I was waiting so I could lock up."

The green lights faltered a bit, blinding everyone temporarily. Torrie panicked, "What's going on?"

"The generators must be running out of juice." Todd was only visible for seconds as the lights continued to flicker. Then they went out all together.

The group went silent again, waiting to see if the lights would come back on. "Well that's just great," Peyton chided, folding her arms in disgust. This had to be the worst day of her life. She opened her mouth to say something else, but she was cut off as a loud bang rang through the air, followed by a loud thump.

The green lights flickered on again, revealing the body of Vincent Kennedy McMahon laying in a pool of his own crimson life force, a hole through his heart.

Torrie screamed, Maria feinted, and Randy ran to cover Peyton's eyes. She pushed him away and knelt at Vinces side, checking his wrist for a pulse. "He's dead." The words came out of her mouth mechanically.

John picked her up from the floor, helping her to her feet. "Who did it?"

Randy cast menacing glances at John as he touched Peyton, "If there's no one else here, it had to be one of us."


	7. Chapter 7: New York Murder Two

Chapter Six

New York: Murder Two

Todd Halphaway walked around the body, examining everything from every angle. "Who would want to kill Mr. McMahon?"

"Who _wouldn't_ want to..." John almost snickered, but he remembered the situation and held it back.

"Who gives a shit why anyone would want to!" Peyton panicked, folding her arms around herself for comfort. Randy knew what she was doing. Whenever Peyton felt backed into a wall, she would curl up into a ball with her arms around herself. She said it reminded her that that was 'her space', and it just made her feel better. "I don't think you're all realizing that we're standing with the killer right now! One of us... is capable of taking a life."

Eyes immediately shot towards Mickie. She threw her hands up in the air and backed away, "What makes you think I could do something like that?!"

"Uhh...let's see. You almost killed Peyton tonight! She was standing right next to Vince. You could have just missed." Candice accused, but she couldn't manage to take her eyes off her dead boss. She felt herself close to feinting and looked for Todd's support to stand.

Trish nodded her head in agreement, "Not to mention that you're totally head over heels for Randy, but he doesn't want you. Not unless Peyton was out of the picture."

The fear in Mickie disappeared as she was standing alone, being convicted for murder. "What about Peyton, then?! She was mad at me for causing her the match..."

"You are seriously delusional..."Peyton scoffed, walking away so she wouldn't end up killing Mickie.

"She could have snapped when she heard that Vince let me down to the ring." Mickie finished. Her statements erupted a whole slew of foul language from Peyton, which made everyone burst into an uproar of anger.

Todd climbed up onto a storage box, looking over at all of the yelling. "HEY!" They all stopped to look up at him. "Fighting isn't going to bring Mr. McMahon back, nor is blaming someone without any evidence. I say we split up into teams of two and try to find a way out before we all wind up like our former boss."

"Split up? So whoever gets partnered with the physco gets the ax next. I don't think so." John sighed. "I thought you said we're all stuck in here anyway."

"That's what the head of security for the arena told me, but he also mentioned some old wooden doors in the basement. If we can find one, we can smash through it just like with the locker room door."

"So we just hope that we don't get paired with the crazy? Great plan." Randy mocked.

Candice placed her hands on her hips, not liking the tone her beau was getting. "It's better than waiting here and being killed off all at once. At least we'd be trying to save ourselves."

Peyton nodded, "It's may sound horrible, but sacrificing one person for the good of the group is really our only option. And you never know, maybe the killer won't get another chance to strike."

"Let's just hope the generators hold up." Todd sighed. "I'll go with Candice." Naturally.

"And I'm with Peyton." She half expected the words to come from Randy's mouth, but was pleasantly surprised to hear that it was John.

After that it was Maria with Melina and Victoria, and Torrie and Trish. Which left Randy with Mickie.

- - - - - - - -

Listening to the sound of their shoes crash against the metal staircase, Peyton couldn't help but cringe at the goose bumps covering her entire body. "Is it just me, or do you get the feeling we're just walking into a cheap horror film?" She shivered in the damp basement, still wary of the spooky green light showering over their silhouettes.

"Maybe, only ten times more crazy." He responded, craning his neck around in every direction. Almost like he was watching his back. And Peyton was behind him.

She stopped dead in her tracks. "You don't really think I did that, do you?"

"Would I have volunteered to go with you if I did?" His words seemed distant and cold.

"You can't be serious! You came with me because you think that I'm capable of murder. That way, you get to play the knight in shining armor."

She continued to ramble until John turned to her and gripped her shoulders firmly. It felt oddly similar to the day that Randy had stopped her in Philadelphia. In that moment, she knew it was because he cared. "Peyton! Would you listen to yourself?"

This was it. This was the moment when Peyton would know for sure if she had really moved on. This was the moment when Peyton would know if she was going to come out of this all right. She leaned in and kissed him, her upper lip falling between his. He held her shoulders tighter, pulling her into him. It was only a short kiss, but when Peyton pulled back she knew that she wasn't ready to give up all hope on Randy yet.

John had expected as much, "Well?"

Peyton licked her upper lip, feeling something of a tingling sensation running across her mouth. "I was just..."

"I know what you were doing."

"Then why did you kiss me back?"

He ran a calm hand over his face for a moment to think. When his hand returned to his side, he found his fingers twitching uncomfortably. "I know you need some sort of closure. And, as your friend, I was glad that I could help you with achieving it." She reached her hand out to him and he took it, careful to cup his hand instead of lacing fingers. "So? What's going on in that complicated head of yours?"

She sat on the step, covering her face in her hands and hiding her oncoming tears. "I hate him for what he did, but I can't help but miss him."

He knelt down next to her, reaching his arms out to hug her. He embraced her fort he better part of two minutes before he took hold of her shoulders and brought her to arm length. "You feel better now?" He waited for her to nod. "Good. Then what do you say we go find those goddam doors so we can get out of here. You know, just incase you don't want to die."

"Well... when you say it _that _way..."

- - - - - - - -

Mickie blindly followed Randy down a dark hallway, grabbing his arm and clinging to him for safety. Randy pulled his appendage back from her desperate grip, and she took the hint that he wasn't in any sort of mood. She kept her silence. "Do you really think that me and you would ever work out?" He seemed disgusted.

Mickie began to pout like a child, questions swirling around in her head in a dizzy confusion. That confusion turned to anger as she began stomping her feet behind him, purposely annoying him to the point of confronting her. "What?!"

Mickie crossed her arms, the pout on her face melting into the lines creasing her mouth. "You're obsessed with her. Face it, Randy. You're never going to get her back!"

"You don't know that. No one can know that." As soon as the words rumbled from his vocal chords and passed through his lips, Randy knew that they were as hollow as his delusion was. Peyton had made it clear several times that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him anymore. Then there was John. As he thought more about it, Randy figured that one day, when he had finally let go, she would be able to forgive him. He only assumed that that feat would happen only after she had moved on. But he never thought she would find someone else so fast, and it made him unsettled to know that it was one of his good friends that got to comfort him instead of him. "You could never measure up to her. No matter how much you try."

They made it to the mouth of the hallway, a little more light flickering from the open spaces. The room was glowing in the pale lighting, shining off of the metal staircase and casting long shadows where large crates were propped up against walls. On the staircase, Randy observed Peyton crying, John's arms around her. It made his stomach knot and turn, but he held it down. Then he heard the words he's been longing to hear. "I can't help but miss him." It made his heart flutter with a joy that he had never felt. Well, maybe one time. When she said "yes".

Mickie heard it too, but the feeling in her was somewhat different. She wanted to puke. Peyton was no good for Randy. She was too untamed for him, and Mickie knew that she would give him nothing but heartbreak. Who cares if Peyton still loved him. Mickie had to make Randy see the light. Somehow.

Randy reveled himself from the hallway just as they were standing up. "Any luck?" he asked, a smile almost setting on his face. But he held that back too. He couldn't let things get out of perspective. Vince was dead, and one of them could be next. It was his own self preservation that made him stop from jumping for joy.

"Nope. Nothing yet." John sighed, meeting Randy at the bottom of the stairs. "There's a door over there, though. I think it goes to the boiler room, but I'm not sure."

Mickie nodded, hiding her malice very well. "We should go find Todd, then, and see what he says."

John and Randy turned to leave, and just as Peyton was about to follow, Mickie grabbed her arm and wrenched her around. "Don't do it, Mick." Peyton hissed, all hatred foaming at the surface.

"No, Peyton. Don't you dare give Randy any sort of hope. You and I both know that you can't take him back now."

"No. I didn't know that. All I knew is that I was extremely pissy. Now, not so much towards him but towards you. Keep your claws out of him, Mickie." As Peyton pivoted to continue after the boys, Mickie grabbed her arm again. Peyton wrenched around with such momentum then Mickie got knocked to the floor when her fist made contact with Mickie's nose.

The boys came running back after hearing the "thud" Mickie's bottom made when she hit the hard floor. "What happened?" John cautiously asked.

"She fell." Peyton retorted.

- - - - - - -

Trish and Torrie clung to each other, giving them both a false sense of security towards the dark and narrow hallways that entwined Madison Square Garden's inner workings. They were approaching the backup generator, then only sound cutting through the air was the loud humming.

Both of them stopped dead in their tracks when Peyton's piercing scream filled their eardrums and erupted with a final "OH GOD!"

They left the comfort of the other's arms and started running towards the whimpering noises that they were only assuming were still coming from Peyton. They ran until their legs burned, making it to a large metal staircase. Taking two, sometimes three, steps in a bound, Torrie and Trish fell on their knees when they finally found her.

Randy and Mickie were looking on with wide, scared eyes. Peyton was laying on the ground, covered in blood. John Cena's blood.

_Who did it?! review please!_

_Ruby_


	8. Chapter 8: New York Murder Three

Chapter Eight

New York: Murder Three

Peyton closed his glassy eyes, tears running freely from her own like a raging river. The rest of the girls showed up next, then Candice and Todd. Some shrieked, others covered their mouths or eyes. But Peyton couldn't help but stare. She had only known John Cena for a week. Two weeks, maybe. Time didn't seem to matter anymore, just now. As she ran her right hand down his lifeless face, slipping her left one in to his open hand, it made her feel like her own brother was dead.

Todd ran up, panting. "What the hell happened?"

Then, Peyton was filled with a rage that she couldn't describe. Her legs started shaking, but that didn't stop her from standing up. Her anger made her feel like she was ten feet tall. "One of you did this, and I swear to God that if I ever find out who it is... you'll be sorry." She spoke in a hushed voice, but her tone made the message come across loud and clear.

Again, Peyton burst into tears and collapsed in a heap on the concrete floor. She wasn't afraid anymore. Now, she just felt like kicking the shit out of someone. Randy stooped down to her, wrapping his arms around her. He hoped she wouldn't push him away, and she didn't. Instead, she embraced him back. Her head had once fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and she used that to hide her face.

Mickie saw him whispering something in her ear, and was growing angrier by the second. That was supposed to be her in Randy's arms. But as she continued to watch, she began to realize how stupid this whole thing was. If she wanted to have Randy, she was going to have to do more than just stand there and scowl. But how far was she willing to go? And had she made a terrible mistake?

Torrie placed a hand on Mickie's back, noticing that her face was beginning to swell where Peyton had hit her. "Mick, what _did_ happen?"

Mickie crossed her arms, "Randy and I came across Peyton and Cena sitting on the staircase. We talked, and we were about to go find Todd because we think we found the boiler room. Then the lights flickered again...then..."

Panic raised over all the girls as they began to cower where they stood. Trish pointed a finger at Randy. "It had to be you!" She cried, backing into a wall.

"That's fucking crazy!" Randy protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Is it really? You still want Peyton back, and she was just getting close to John."

Fear rose in Randy's eyes. "Just before you were blaming Mickie. Now me?"

Todd, once again, broke the bickering. "Remember what we talked about before? The important thing here is to get out before anyone else gets killed! Who cares who did it if you're going to live!"

Finding that this was solving nothing, and because her anger was about to get the best of her, Peyton stormed off on her own. Candice, worried about her best friend's mental well-being, ran after her. Randy followed Candice, shooting off menacing glances at Trish as he past, and Mickie followed him.

- - - - - -

Peyton was aware that Candice was following her, but she had no intention of slowing her pace. Instead, she began running through the eerie hallways, searching for her own way out. The more she ran, the more her head throbbed. The more her head throbbed, the more dizzy she became. Still, she pushed on and ran her legs to the limit.

Peyton finally noticed that Candice, no matter how hard she ran, could not catch up to her. Once she was far away enough so that she couldn't hear Candice's footsteps anymore, she found a whole slew of crates that were used to store camera equipment and wedged herself in between them. She let the darkness envelope her, wrapping around her like a blanket and hiding her from all sight.

She waited for Candice to run past, then jumped up and started in the opposite direction. With a loud "thump", and a couple jolting steps backward, Randy ran straight into her. She would have fallen on the floor, but he had caught her just in time.

He held her close, feeling her entire body beginning to shake in his arms. Her fear was just starting to show, her skin turning milky white. Tears began streaming down her cheeks again, but this time they were tears of sadness and not anger. She was afraid for her own well-being, and worst of all, Randy's. She started to say something, but it came out in more of a inaudible whimper. He stopped her in mid-sentence, "Shhh, it's okay..."

"No!" She screamed, pushing him away. He almost cursed himself for opening his mouth. "It's not okay! Two people are dead Randy!"

Mickie had stopped running a long time ago, figuring she would find them sooner or later. And she did. Peyton was screaming at Randy, making a devilish smile slide across Mickie's lips, which she automatically felt ten different kinds of guilt for. There were people dead, and she was happy that an relationship was breaking up. It was already a shattered vase, but Mickie felt that feeling happy about watching this was just her smashing the pieces further. She stopped and turned around, keeping herself just behind the corner. That way, she could hear the goings on, but couldn't be seen.

Peyton was tired of yelling. She was tired of loathing Randy. And she was tired of going to bed by herself at night, and waking up just as alone. She found her hands clutching the hair around her temples, pulling with just enough might to make it hurt, but not enough to pull any out.

So she stopped.

She stopped everything. She stopped yelling. She stopped loathing. She stopped feeling lonely. She stopped regretting. She stopped shaking. And she stopped clutching. Instead, she crossed her arms and stared at him. "You never told me you were sorry."

Randy's eyes grew wide with sympathy. "But I am! Peyton...," He ran his hands down her shoulders until her arms were straight and his hands were closed in hers, "I am sorry for every minute that I didn't spend with you. I regret everything that happened, and I am sorry I ever had to put you through any of this."

She walked away with him, throwing her arms around herself to form her comfort bubble. She suddenly felt the fatigue of running hit her, and her knees began to shake. Needing to sit, desperately, she found the nearest window and hoisted herself up on the sill.

Randy saw her putting her walls up, and decided that he needed to just be silent for a while. She was going to talk when she was ready, and he wasn't going to force it. He found a convenient place on the wall, and slid down to sit on the cold floor.

Peyton hugged her knees to the chest, staring into the dark abyss of the night. The horizon seemed to be glowing with the prospect of day, a golden gleam peeking just over the hill. She just felt like losing herself in the sunrise, hoping that with the daylight would come safety. but then something odd made her really think. Just below the horizon, where she saw the sun rising, she saw another yellow light. A square light, that was only visible for a second before it extinguished. "Randy?"

Randy perked up, "Yeah?"

"What time is it?"

He wasn't sure, but he wanted to keep her talking. So he guessed. "Well, we were in Vince's office around midnight, and it's been around three hours since then. Why?"

"So it's only about three in the morning?"

Something in her voice was telling him that everything just seemed wrong. "What's going on?"

Peyton motioned to him to come sit next to her. When he was securely on the windowsill, she pointed to the supposed sunrise. "I thought that was the sun rising, but if it's only three o'clock it can't be. Randy, those are lights."

He stared blankly at her for a moment, "Todd said there was a blackout. If there was a fucking blackout, those lights wouldn't be on! And... if there ever was a blackout... and the lights came back on, the doors to the arena would open."

Randy perked even more seeing where she was going, but the green lights began to flicker again. Peyton and Randy didn't need to wait for the lights to come back on for them to jump from the window and begin running towards the way Candice had gone. The lights flickering only meant one thing, another casualty. And Candice was alone.

The were right in their suspicions when the lights finally came back on, but only following the loud bang of another life taking gunshot.

- - - - - - -

The gunshot was loud, which meant it was close. They didn't have to run far before Randy and Peyton came across Candice's limp body, prettily laying in a pool of her own blood, a gunshot wound to her head.

Peyton quickly dropped to her knees and vomited.

Todd was surprised by their sudden arrival, but more surprised that Randy was suddenly on top of his, wrestling to get the weapon out of his hands. Still, his hands clung tight around the trigger, causing the gun to misfire several times. One of those times hit Randy in the arm.

He rolled on his side, fingers digging into a hole in his bicep while the rest of him writhed in pain. Todd took the opportunity to compose himself before pointing the smoking pistol at his head. And he smiled.

Peyton pushed herself up from the floor, throwing her arms out in front of her and slamming into his chest just as he fired again, knocking off his aim, but still hitting Randy in the shoulder. Randy let out another scream as Todd quickly overpowered her, pinning her into the floor. "Look what you made me do..." He said, almost laughing.

Peyton closed her eyes, squeezing her lids as tight as possible, as she tried to free herself. No use. He would only push her harder. At least she could say she tried.

Just as she was ready to accept what she thought was her fate, she realized all the pressure that he had applied was no longer there. She jumped up, wheeling around to see Mickie clawing and biting. She quickly searched for Randy, finally seeing him laying on the floor, no longer moving or making a sound. Her heart sank into her stomach, but no tears formed. Instead, she rose to her feet, fists forming so hard her knuckles cracked. She turned to Todd.

He had overpowered Mickie just as easily as he had taken her, but he made one fatal mistake. He turned his back to her. Mickie was on the floor, crab-crawling backwards away from him. His arm was outstretched and the silver death machine pointed in her direction. "You bitch." He giggled, slowing following her movements.

Peyton walked up behind him, let her foot idle for a second, and made contact with his twins. Hard contact. Crippling contact. Todd doubled over, smile wiped from his now wincing face. He dropped the gun to try to help himself. Peyton snatched it up, motioning for Mickie to help her. She stood over him, her feet perfectly placed on his elbows and her knees on his shoulders. The handgun was against his skin, pointed right between his eyes.

_well, now you know "who done it". now there's a new question: "why?" that, my friends, is to be revealed next chapter. hope you liked this one!_

_sorry for the semi-cliffy, too. _

_Ruby_


	9. Chapter 9: How and Why

Chapter Nine

How and Why

Peyton hugged her jacket around herself, staring at the large closed door before her. Hospital sounds filled the background, but that's all it was. Background noise. Truthfully, she could care about the monitors beeping or the sounds of rambunctious children trying to amuse themselves. The vending machines purr was of no interest to her, and the nurses station gossip was just something she didn't care about right now. But for some reason, she couldn't figure out why she couldn't move. She stared at the door, knowing well what was on the other side. Randy.

Thinking about it was just making her confusion worse. He had just gotten out of surgery, the bullets were removed, and he was still heavily sedated. He probably wasn't even awake. So why were her legs shaking at the thought of seeing him?

"This is ridiculous," She sighed, pushing the door open with her shoulder and carrying flowers into the room.

He looked so peaceful, laying under all those white sheets. His entire left arm was bandaged from the wrist all the way around his chest. She now cared about the monitor beeping, seeing as how his stats were the ones shown on the screen. She had no idea what the numbers and squiggly lines meant, but they seemed important to her, somehow.

She sat down next to him, pulling the chair closer to his bedside and slipping her hand in his good one. It felt good to touch him, even if it was only holding hands. It made her feel like he was still there, although lolling through a intravenous induced sleep. The doctor had said everything went fine. They were able to get all the bullet fragments out and that he would be asleep for a little while longer. She hoped he would wake soon, because she just wanted to see his face.

Still, looking at him was bringing back hard memories that she had been trying to suppress in the last two days. Blurred images ran through her memory.

_Standing over Todd, Peyton found herself conflicted about what to do. Shoot him? Not shoot him? Was she capable of taking a human life, no matter how sick and twisted the person? What would happen if she didn't? Would something happen and, somehow, give Todd to the opportunity to take more lives? What would be the repercussions of her actions?_

_She looked over to Randy, seeing him laying there. He wasn't moving, not even the movement of his lungs taking in air. She wanted to cry, but she found herself out of tears. Then, she saw a twitch. She wasn't sure if it was just her mind playing hopeful tricks on her or if she really saw it. Then she saw his foot move, it not ever so slightly. His breathing was pained, but his stomach started to inflate and flatten over and over, again, if not ever so slightly. He was holding on. _

_Then she heard it. "Pey...ton...?"_

_He was asking for her. He was fighting for her. It made her choices seem clearer, and in the end she made a decision. Mickie was at her side, looking over the site with wide eyes. Peyton could tell she had no idea what to do, so she gave her orders. _

"_Find the girls, get the electricity back on and find the nearest phone." _

_Mickie took off faster than she ever thought she could. _

Peyton was knocked from her thoughts by a gentle hand running over her back. It was Matt Fields, the investigating officer of the case. He had been a good guy to have around in the last few days, and Peyton was happy with his work. He was professional, but at the same time compassionate. She whispered a hello, and watched as he sat in a chair on the other side of the room.

"I thought you'd be here," He gave a little smile then proceeded to pull out a notebook from his pocket.

"Not more questions, Matt." She grunted, feeling a need to be even closer to Randy. She got up from her chair and sat next to him on the bed, his whole arm in her lap.

"No. No more questions. I just thought you'd like to know that we got Halphaway to sing like a canary. I thought I heard you mention something about wanting to know why?"

True, Peyton had wanted to know why. But what she ready to know? She nodded, finding a loss for words.

"Now, I'm not supposed to be telling you any of this. But, considering what he told us, I think _you_ have a right to know." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Peyton, he was after you."

"Me? I hardly knew the man... I ..."

He held up a hand, signaling her to keep al questions until the end. "Yes. We, as in me and the District Attorney, found out everything we could about the guy. We pulled everything we had, including family medical records. That told us that he had a long family line of mental breakdowns." He paused, turning a few pages in his notebook then looked back at her. "Apparently the most recent was his brother, who went insane after his fiancé left him at the alter. She ran off with some other guy."

"What does that have to do with me?"

He let that question slide, "Peyton, you were leaving Randy. Right? Candice probably told him, and he snapped. He blamed it all on you."

She didn't have anything to say to that. Other than another question that is, "Then why kill those other people? Why not just shoot me?"

"He said he was trying to push you two back together."

"But why? Why John? Why Vince? Hell! He shot his own girlfriend!"

Matt stood, making her feel like she had crossed a line. She calmed herself down, her hands rubbing her temples in frustration. "I'm sorry, Matt."

"I know this is hard. Maybe I shouldn't have..."

"No! No... please. I want to know."

He let out a deep breath, clearly thinking of whether this was a good idea or not. "Okay. But no more from you until I'm done. Got it?" She nodded in agreement. "Good. Look, Todd had this all planned out. Since he was the head of security, he knew the lay-out of the entire area. He knew where the backup generator's were. Now, it's technically against security code to turn off the generators, but I don't think he really cared about his job at this point. He set them on a timer, so he knew when he had his opportunity. After the show, he made sure everyone left, then turned off the electricity when he knew that his victims were still inside. He knew that you all where going to be in Vince's office, so that's when he decided to make his strike. He knew, because he was watching you all from the security room. He was watching the feedback from the security cameras the whole time.

His victims were something we had to put together on our own, though. I talked to the referees, and everyone else that was there that night, and I found out that Vince was planning on giving you the Woman's Title shot after what happened. That would mean that your storyline and Randy's storyline would split. So he killed Vince.

John Cena was a bit easier. He was watching you two, I saw on the tapes, on the staircase. You kissed him, and that was getting in the way of you and Randy.

And Candice... well, that was just an accident. Todd was with the group when he saw you run away. He saw Candice run after you. Then Randy. Then Mickie. He was going to cut you off, but you ditched Candice by hiding behind those storage bins. He thought Candice was you."

Peyton squeaked, now feeling like this was all her fault. She knew it wasn't, but it felt like it was. "So what's going to happen to him? Todd?"

"You don't have to worry about him. He's looking at life now, and there's no way he could get out on a plea of insanity. We had a doctor evaluate him, and he's a menace to society."

Again she nodded. It was good news to hear. Matt nodded back, then placed one more hand on her shoulder before leaving.

Just as the door clicked closed, Randy began to stir. He moaned at first, probably because he was still experiencing pain, then opened his eyes. His vision flooded back to him all at once, and her face was all he saw. It brought a smile to his lips.

She smiled back, "Hey, you."

He mumbled back a "hi", but it was barely inaudible. The sedative was still taking it's toll. He lolled in and out for the next few minutes before fully waking up. It was painful to watch, but she still sat contently. When he finally fully woke, he squeezed her hand back, still managing a pained grin.

"Sleeping beauty is awake. And okay."

It was weird, being with him like this. After all, they were still technically broken up. But she still loved him, and he still loved her. She still wanted to be with him forever. And she was going to.

"So...I was thinking about calling a caterer sometime in the future..."

Randy laughed, squeezing her hand even tighter while pulling her towards him. Soon, they were laying in the bed together. "As long as they have some really kick ass chicken."

**alright, so really corny. but cute, right? i was going for cute. anyway, i guess that this is the last chapter. i'm not sure. i might do an epilogue. maybe. maybe even a sequel. i dunno. **

**stay tuned in case there is more. **

**thanks to all of you who reviewed and added this story to your favorites. i appreciate it!**

**Ruby**


	10. Chapter 10: Epilogue

**Hey everyone. I decided that, ultimately, one last chapter was needed. I kind of just left things hanging in the last one, so here's an epilogue, all-be-it a short one:**

Epilogue

It had taken a full year for Peyton to get over everything, but all the pain still remained. Her memory was fuzzy. The therapist the WWE head assigned her to said that that was normal after such a huge trauma. Still, there was something inside that made Peyton believe that it was all her fault.

It had taken her a full year to walk down the aisle.

The wedding had been everything she could have imagined. She wore a white dress, a designer. The bride was beautiful. The groom was handsome. And smiling. They both smiled. A lot. Trish and Torrie had been bridesmaids. The Maid of Honor position was left open, because it belonged to Candice. The same went with the Best Man position, which belonged to John.

Despite their loses, Randy and Peyton turned the event into a sort of memorial slash celebration.

Now, Peyton could care less if her dress was white anymore. Was she ever really going to wear it again anyway? Probably not. She wasn't even really thinking about it as she stared at Candice's grave. Next she would visit John's, and they would take pictures. The gesture seemed gloomy, but it made Peyton feel like her lost friends really were part of the supposed festivities.

Trish and Torrie filed in on either side of her, bowing their heads with respect and adding a silent prayer for their fallen partner in crime. They slipped their arms around each other, adding that small silent comfort that only they could get from friends.

Behind them, Randy leaned against the limo, his jacket somewhere inside the vehicle. He still remembered the incident vividly. It was something he'd rather avoid, hoping one day to forget. He watched his wife and her friends, leaning on each other for support but at the same time laughing.

It was gray outside, the sky getting ready to douse them all. It didn't matter. He would stand in the rain for Peyton. He would do anything for Peyton, which he already proved.

Out of the corner of his eye, Randy saw a faint flicker of headlights as a car pulled up behind the limo. Mickie stepped out from the driver's seat, flowers and a decorated box in her hands. Randy stiffened, still uneasy in her presence. "Baby?"

Peyton swirled around, holding bunches of her dress in her fists. She watched Mickie walk towards her, but didn't even so much as flinch. Mickie stopped before she got too close, staring at Peyton with teary eyes. She started to speak, but Peyton stopped her when she threw her arms in front of her. Peyton embraced Mickie, cradling her head so she could cry on her bare shoulder. Mickie didn't cry, though. She pulled back, grinning with the simplicity that it took. "I missed you guys."

Trish ran a hand down Mickie's arm, "We missed you, too."

Mickie placed the flowers on Candice's grave, then handed the box to Peyton. "Congratulations. You and Randy were meant to be together."

Peyton looked towards her husband, seeing him rigid and uncomfortable. This was the day Peyton had longed for. The day she would have fully forgiven Mickie. And Randy. "Yeah. I guess so."

Randy approached her, something in Peyton's eyes calling to him. He swept her up in his arm as their lips found each other.

**what did you think? really... **

**So i decided not to do a sequel, but i have another wwe fanfic in mind. here's the info incase you liked my writing and whatnot:**

_The Art of Addiction_

_An hobby can become and addiction if you don't stay on top of it. And an addiction can just as easily become away of life. Four different superstars are venturing into dangerous territoy, no matter what the uncontrolable craving. The real question is: Which addictions are harmless? And which can kill you?_

_Unsure of pairings at this point. _

_Romance/Drama_

_Includes John Cena, Randy Orton, an OC (maybe two), and other superstars. _

**I just came up with the idea last night after watching Raw. I saw a sign that said "Stop Blaming WWE" in the crowd and it got me mad. Chris Benoit will be missed, and the way he passed was unfortunate. So i started writing, and i came up with this. **

**anyhoo, i hope to get that up by the end of this week. if not, it's going to be a minimum of two weeks cuz i'm going on vacation on saturday for a week. I'll keep you posted**

**Ruby**


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